


Seasons of Love

by purplebass



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, M/M, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplebass/pseuds/purplebass
Summary: Four season-themed one shots about four couples: blackdale (winter), gracetoper (spring), jordelia (summer), thomastair (autumn), to celebrate Valentine's Day.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Cordelia Carstairs/James Herondale, Grace Blackthorn/Christopher Lightwood, Jesse Blackthorn/Lucie Herondale
Kudos: 64





	1. Winter

Lucie had already left the Institute when the snow started to fall, but she didn’t mind, because as every other night, she was about to meet Jesse. She was nervous as she entered his property, and the greenhouse specifically, which was the only warmer place where they could meet. He had insisted to appear in her bedroom or drawing room so she wouldn’t have to go out in the cold. Although he had already been there in the past, she said no. She knew that something had changed through the course of the weeks after they’d started talking, and she felt that her room may give her away, considering that some of her recent writing were also inspired by him and he could snoop through her manuscripts.

She huffed on her bare hands, and there he was, in his ghostly flair.

“Hope you didn’t wait too long, Lucie. My mother wouldn’t let me go.”

“I’ve just arrived,” she replied, giving him a faint smile as she rubbed her hands together.

That gesture caught his attention. “Your hands are bleeding,” he muttered with concern.

He was closer to her in the blink of an eye, and Lucie opened her mouth in surprise. She should have expected it, knowing that he was as sleek as a cat, and very much weightless. She glanced at her hands. Her knuckles were bleeding, but she hadn’t realized because of the cold.

As she inspected her marred hands, one of Jesse’s pale ones grazed the traces of red. But his fingers didn’t linger, because they went through her, slipped through her palms, as if they were a figment of her imagination. He sighed in frustration.

“It’s already dried,” she offered, trying to calm his disquiet, and took a handkerchief out of her pocket to clean her hand.

“I hate that I can’t do anything for you,” he confessed, his voice tinged with palpable sorrow.

Her heart broke for him. That was one of the reasons she wanted to revive him. To give him the possibility to feel part of the world again. And because she also missed his touch.

“That’s not true. You’re here, and that’s what matters the most.”

He managed a grin. She knew that he was probably still beating himself up because he couldn’t help her, but she would fix that someday.

“Come on. Let’s go see the winterberry shrub. It bloomed the other day.”

“Is that a winter plant?”

“Yes, it is,” he answered kindly, leading her inside of the greenhouse. “It’s a winter plant. I’m surprised you don’t know about it.”

Lucie glared at him, and he giggled. Even if Jesse was slightly arrogant at times, she would rather spend time with him in the cold night than be alone in the clear light of the day. Soon, she would be able to bring him back so that he would stare at the sun with her the same way they have been staring at the moon every night since they have met. She promised herself.


	2. Spring

Grace got off the carriage and stared at the Fairchild residence before her. She was there on behalf of the Inquisitor. She wished she had never agreed to it, since she wasn’t familiar with the Consul and her husband, nor she wished to see either of their sons, but she went there to show the Bridgestocks that she was thankful for their hospitality. She bit her lip, but told herself that the moment she would give the missive to Mrs. Fairchild, she would leave pretending she had another engagement.

She moved with slow steps until she faced the main door and knocked. She was holding her breath, she realized, as she waited. Someone finally opened the door at least, and she found herself face to face with clear lavender eyes, which were impossible to forget. Christopher Lightwood’s white shirt was stained with colored powder as well as his glasses and hands. She remembered that he told her he liked science, and did some experiments in the laboratory.

“Mr. Lightwood,” Grace said, “are you all right?” She didn’t want to seem too concerned, but she was. Perhaps, if he had come up there to greet her, he was fine.

“Miss Blackthorn, what are you doing here?” he asked instead, but he wasn’t frowning as Grace would expected. He seemed curious.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to answer me first?” she argued, trying not to be too haughty.

“You came at the perfect moment,” Kit said, and ushered her inside, closing the door after she entered. “I have just finished my last experiment, and I think you are the perfect person to try it.”

Grace was puzzled, but followed Christopher anyway. The house was probably empty save for him, and he didn’t even reside there. “Mr. Lightwood, please,” she tried to say, “I’ve come to give the Consul a missive from the Inquisitor, is she here?” but he was too focused on leading her towards a narrow staircase that he didn’t notice until they were at the top of said stairs.

“Charlotte isn’t here,” he answered, which elicited a _oh_ from Grace. “Please, mind the stairs, Miss Blackthorn,” he advised her, then started descending. She didn’t follow, and he realized a few moments later that she hadn’t moved. She frowned at him, and Kit walked up the stairs again. “Aren’t you coming? Ah, right. I should have offered you my hand. I’m sorry,” he apologized, and did as he said.

Grace didn’t want to take his hand. After all, they barely knew each other. But somehow, she grabbed it, and they went in the laboratory together. She looked around the room in awe. The lab was packed with lots colored flowers of different kinds, which made it smell like a greenhouse. There had never been so much color in her life, and she reveled in it. She used to love making flower crowns as a child.

Kit let go of her hand and retrieved a small bottle with a lilac liquid from the table, and offered it to her. “If you would please take this and try it, Miss Blackthorn.”

She stood still for a moment. “If you would please explain what this is first, Mr. Lightwood,” she demanded, parroting his statement.

Christopher smiled. “This is a demon repellant perfume. You have to put a little on your neck and wrists like you would an ordinary perfume, and it will make some demons stay away from you.”

She doubted that, but she remembered James once told her that Christopher Lightwood was a promising young scientist, so she decided to trust him. She sprayed a little where he advised her, and he looked ecstatic. “This is a nice smell,” she commented, and offered the bottle back to him.

“It’s hydrangeas,” he revealed. “And please, keep it. It’s yours.”

She was speechless. It was rare for her to receive gifts, and this was a nice perfume. Even if it didn’t work, she could use it sometimes. She smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Lightwood.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, beaming. “Would you like to stay and watch as I prepare a few more bottle of repellant, maybe?”

Grace thought it would be better to say no, and pretend she had to go. But it smelled so nice down there, and she had never seen a lab. Plus, she would get bored at the Bridgestocks. She forgot everything about the missive. “I would like to, Mr. Lightwood.”

“Please, call me Christopher.”

“Please, call me Grace,” she repeated, and then she settled on a chair nearby to witness how Christopher Lightwood ruined all of his white shirts.


	3. Summer

Cordelia had been in different places of the globe, but she thought that the humidity of London during summer season was unbearable. She was waiting for James in the foyer of the Institute, and she wished she had brought a fan to cool down the heat creeping on her face.

“Daisy, I’m sorry,” James said, coming down from the stairs with a picnic basket in hand. “The tarts weren’t ready, and I had to wait.”

“Did you bake them yourself?” she wondered with curiosity, after James gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

A smile lighted up James’ face. “If I did, the kitchen would be in flames right now.”

Cordelia laughed at that, and she flashed him a grin. “This wouldn’t be the best day to burn your kitchen, James.”

“You’re right. The world is melting today,” he said, and offered Cordelia his hand to get in the carriage. She was about to take it when he had an idea. “Wait. Do you know how to ride, right?”

“Yes. What do you have in mind?”

James winked at her, and took her to the stables, where their other horse Balios was waiting.

“Are we going to Regent’s Park on horseback?” Cordelia asked with excitement. She used to ride when she was in Devon, and she hadn’t been able to ride ever since her family established in London for good.

“Do you like the idea? Perhaps the wind will ruin your hair?”

Cordelia, who did not care if her hair would be in disarray, was positive she wanted to ride. “I can’t bear this heat, honestly. And I want to ride, James. So of course, I love this idea.”

She decided to take Xanthos, the white horse, that was already outside waiting by the carriage, while James rode Balios, the black horse. They disguised themselves so that mundane wouldn’t be able to see them ride off towards the park. She had to admit the horse was fast, but steady, and James rode next to her so she felt safe. They left the horses by a tree which also provided them shade, and set their blanket on the grass. They sat down and started to eat, talking about random things in between their food.

“I think my cheeks got sunburnt,” James said suddenly, rubbing his fingers over his face.

“You didn’t burn the kitchen but you burnt your cheeks,” Cordelia giggled, stopping his hand. “Don’t touch it, James. It will get worse.”

James gasped. “Did I burn myself for real? I’m on fire, Daisy.”

“Don’t worry, I have the solution,” she offered, and took some ointment from her pocket. “I use this on my hands, but I guess it would work for burns as well,” she explained.

“I trust you,” James muttered, and Cordelia’s cheeks heated because he trusted her.

She stood on her knees, and James closed his eyes, reveling in the smell. He was relaxing because Cordelia was massaging his cheeks as she applied the salve on his face. She kept her hands on the sides of his neck once done, and gave him a peck on the lips for emphasis.

James opened his eyes, and grinned at his fiancée. “You always know what to do, Daisy.”

“I think you do need another kiss to heal completely,” she suggested, and gave him a deeper kiss before he could say more.


	4. Autumn

“Can you believe three years already went by?” Thomas asked from behind his earth-toned scarf, which almost covered his mouth.

Alastair gave him a warm smile. “No, I can’t believe it at all, Thomas,” he replied from his own burgundy colored one.

It wasn’t winter, yet the Parisian nightfall air was chilly to the point that it was better to wear a scarf to avoid colds. Thomas nor Alastair didn’t mind if they fell ill while spending their second anniversary there. It would just mean that they would spend more time together and have the perfect excuse to go back to London way later than planned.

“It’s always nice to see Paris,” Thomas continued, and marveled at the beauty of the city, even if the trees around them were almost bare of their leaves.

“It would be nicer to see Paris when the weather is nicer,” Alastair complained, and Thomas snorted. “But I can’t complain.”

“You proposed to come here during this time, remember?”

Alastair smiled at himself. Of course, he remembered. “The colors of autumn leaves,” he said quietly, “remind me of the color of your eyes.”

“Oh,” Thomas exclaimed, stunned. “Thanks?”

Alastair glared at him, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. Before he could reply, there was a flash of light, and the sky opened up. He glanced at Thomas, and they ran under a small gazebo made of white wood. It wasn’t covered on the side, but at least it would be the perfect shelter until the rain would stop. If it would ever stop.

“Damn weather,” Alastair grunted, and put his hands in his pockets.

“What were you saying about my eyes?” Thomas tried to distract him, and Alastair grinned at him.

“I’m not mad, Tom,” he explained. “But I had planned something.”

“Come on, it will stop raining in a bit, and we can move on with your plan. I’m sure of it,” Thomas said, putting a hand on Alastair’s arm.

Alastair turned his head abruptly towards him, his expression unreadable. He shook his head. “No, I can’t wait anymore,” he said with determination.

Thomas’ heart raced. Alastair was grumpy, that was a given, but he could see something had changed in his tone. What if he had taken him to Paris to bid him farewell? His hand trembled, and he was about to remove it from Alastair’s arm when he grabbed it.

“ _Hamsar-am_ ,” he murmured softly, gazing into the deep pool of his hazel eyes. “I know there is no way to acknowledge our relationship in the mundane world nor the shadow world. But this won’t stop me from giving you this,” he said, removing his family ring and offering it to Thomas.

Thomas couldn’t believe it. “I thought you were going to break up with me,” he admitted, his voice broken. “But I still won’t accept your ring, _delbar-am_ ,” he said affectionately, and Alastair paled for a moment. _Serves him well for scaring me_ , Thomas thought. “If you don’t accept mine as well,” he finished, removing his own family ring.

“You don’t need to ask,” Alastair replied, asking for Thomas’ hand and putting his ring on his fourth finger.

Thomas did the same, and then he enveloped Alastair in a hug, murmuring in his ear that he loved him so very much. Alastair took advantage that there was no light under the gazebo, and no one would see them because of the rain as well, and kissed Thomas on the lips.

Although Alastair got mad at the weather for runing his surprise to Thomas, Paris would always be the city where their love started to bloom, and where they would always go back with pleasure.


End file.
